


your words on my skin i could never

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Asexuality, M/M, Pining, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney snaps back to reality only to realize his ten-year Pittsburgh niche is wholly, thoroughly, irreparably ruined. By ink, if he can believe it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your words on my skin i could never

**Author's Note:**

> unedited, all mistakes are mine mine mine

There’s always a steady hum of murmurs, rustling clothing, taping broken by a rapid staccato of yelling and chirping and laughing in the locker room before practice. Sidney’s become accustomed to this. Through all that din, he hears the respect of his teammates, the respect for the game, the ambition, the skill, the open sky of possibilities… He’s proud of the niche he’s carved for himself in Pittsburgh and ready for all the carving he will continue to do. Sidney is not ready, however, for the sudden silence that overwhelms the stalls. He turns to see Geno brushing past him with his regular sports bag and spots something dark and long hanging off one of his t-shirt sleeves. Sidney barely has the time to think up a greeting and a “I think there’s something on your arm,” before Duper calls out, “G, what is that?” 

Geno spares no one a glance as he tugs his shirt off to reveal thick bold black lines flowing and streaming across his right upper arm. “Duper never see tattoo before?” he quips as he begins changing into his gear. A few of the guys, already dressed and taking Geno’s tattoo in stride, walk by Geno and clap his back on their way to the rink. “We compare tattoos later, Duper. You work on blocking.” He turns his back to the stall, giving Sidney an even better view of his decorated arm.

While Duper mutters a “Fuck you, Geno” under his breath and stalks off to the rink, Sidney tries to collect himself. In a word, he’s dumbstruck. In two, he’s taken aback. In three, or more, Sidney’s flustered and on edge now because he’s seen tattoos before, tattoos on strangers, on friends, on opponents, better tattoos, well-crafted tattoos, hastily and untidily done tattoos, some imbued with meaning and others sober with regret. He thinks back to Duper’s cup celebration, Tanger’s dedication, Seguin’s sleeves, and finds that he’s never had so immediate and extreme a reaction. He sneaks peeks over at Geno’s arm while it’s still exposed and that’s just it. It’s a simple tribal design, dark strokes and sharp ends, classic. Sidney knows he’s definitely seen tattoos of higher creativity and skill but he can’t bring himself to not admire the pattern. On Geno. This tattoo on Geno because of course everything revolves back to Geno. Sidney can’t remember a time when he didn’t associate a positive emotion with Geno, a mutual feeling of being Penguins forever, an attraction and an appeal that transcends physicality, something so visceral Sidney can’t explain it. He doesn’t- 

“Ready, Sid?” 

Sidney snaps back to reality, to Geno’s voice and he realizes his ten-year Pittsburgh niche is wholly, thoroughly, irreparably ruined. By ink, if he can believe it.


End file.
